


The End of All Things

by itsfourothree



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Healing, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Prisoner Loki, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsfourothree/pseuds/itsfourothree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the events of The Avengers, Loki Laufeyson is serving his sentence as prisoner. With isolation taking its toll on him and his family, an old friend turned healer is tasked with the difficult responsibility of taking care of the mad prince while Thor and The Avengers attempt to keep the peace between Asgard and Earth. Do people truly change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He was a King

Asgardians poured through the entryways to the gigantic stadium, roaring with excitement and riotous conversations. Smiles etched on all faces, but none of joy-only of sinister delight and malice. Their eyes thirsted for blood- justice in their eyes. They flood in, flocking as close as they could near edges of their areas or audience. They stretched the full width of the stadium, filling every space; some honored enough to sit in the balcony hovering above the throne.

One would imagine that the gathering was to celebrate a victory, or to honor a warrior. However, if one listened to the words flying through the humid air, they would hear nothing of the sort.

They waited for a prisoner.

An overwhelming burst of sunlight fell upon Loki as he was brought up from his cell. His skin had grown tight and dull from lack of sun and proper food and drink. His raven hair grew in long, wild tendrils, yet they appeared lifeless. For the first time in weeks, he felt the heat of the sun grace him. He paused for a moment to close his eyes and bask in it, but was shoved along and instructed to keep walking. Loki had grown accustomed to being a ghost, being lost in his isolation. The sun had brought him back to life, only for a moment.

His extensive chains clanked together noisily, catching the ears of the closest Æsir. What started as a dull roar of curses transformed; cruel laughter grew to an explosion of voices, and screams that made the ground vibrate below his shackled feet. Loki paid no attention to them, and only looked forward with his chin held high, his lips pressed together in a thin frown. He held the same posture as he had during his previous strolls down the aisle of the great hall: shoulders back and chest out, with steady emerald eyes focusing on his destination. He walked with slow, calculated steps, trying to delay his punishment as long as he could.

Rotten food and garbage were thrown at him, splashing against his armor. Some were thrown with more force than others, and a few grazed his face. It was a competition to them-who could hit the prisoner the hardest, and who could humiliate him best?

He was a rock thrown in the sea. He thought he could float, but only caused destructive waves before they swallowed him. Every step he took plunged him deeper and deeper, he could feel the eyes weighing down on him, and he felt like he was drowning.

No one would see. He had trained himself well enough to show no weakness. Deep within him, he was terrified of his punishment; he wished that death would just take him away. He felt ashamed and humiliated. However, his mind was too focused on ensuring his façade was bulletproof that Loki had not realized that he reached the steps to the stage.

He dragged his feet up the tired wooden steps, his head lowered just enough that he still held his stature and pride, but did not have to meet another eye. He did not wish to make eye contact with the All-Father. He still stood proud, but he felt the quiver of fear in his legs and hoped that no one had seen it. The highest nobles and warriors were much quieter than the other Asgardians as they stood arrogantly; they were too sophisticated for such volumes. The women whispered to others behind bejeweled hands, while the men glared at Loki through narrowed eyes. Loki only looked away from his path when a certain color caught his eye.

Red. A hue of red he had only seen on one woman.

Barely tilting his head, he looked to his right and saw the most unexpected guests seated on the benches along with the other nobles. His precious Avengers, all donned in traditional Asgardian clothing, watched in complete silence as he neared them.

Clint and Natasha sat beside each other, their faces both cold and unmoving. Natasha locked eyes with Loki, leveling his own stare, and reducing its strength until Loki was forced to glance towards Barton.

Barton met Loki’s eyes for a moment before he switched his attention to the stage across from him. The hate in his heart could not mask the ever-prominent fear he held for Loki-his power-after what the god had done to his mind. Clint wished to see his abuser take punishment, to receive even half of the pain and torture he had given to those undeserving of such hurt.  

Right of them was Bruce and Tony, who both looked uncomfortable. Bruce’s eyes held sympathy, something Loki did not assume he would see from anyone again, much less from the man who had turned beast and thrown the Æsir around like a toy.

Loki caught the older man swallow hard, and he looked almost pained to see the raven-haired villain. Perhaps Tony’s post-traumatic-stress had begun to flare up in his mind. He was in a strange place, watching a trapped man walk towards his torture.

Steve could barely lift his head to watch Loki, and only met his eyes for a moment before closing his them and dropping his head.

Loki was tempted to ask “Here for the show?”, but his muzzle prevented any sound.  

Where was his brother?

As Loki sauntered closer, he saw his giant oaf of a brother standing near his mother, across from the Midgardians. Hate burned beneath his chest at the sight of his brother, standing tall with authority.

The prisoner clenched his fists for a moment before his eyes traveled over to his mother.  He could only gaze at her for a moment before he forced himself to turn away. He could see the pain etched in her delicate features and the way her eyes studied him, searching for the son she loved.

The All-Father sat upright and watched, unblinking, as the man he once called his own was brought before him. He had complete control now, something he never could quite catch in his dealings with the boy. The events over the past year had aged him greatly, his eyes were weighed down with exhaustion and his frown was cemented with dissatisfaction, but his strong hand had no less intensity when it came to ruling the Nine Realms or his prodigal son.

Four guards spread out behind the condemned prince, gathering more of the heavy chains connected to Loki’s manacles in their grasp, making them taut. Two different guards came forward and started the difficult process of separating the elaborate restraints, taking no precautions to ensure an easy release for Loki. Soon, they had been released so his hands could spread apart. Two chains for each restraint, the guards pulled once more, making Loki’s arms pull back painfully as the iron bit through his thin skin. The same guards began to take apart the armor and leather that protected his upper-half. With each piece removed, he felt smaller and smaller, as if every honor and accomplishment was being stripped from him and thrown away. They stripped his layers away until all that was left to cover him were his leather pants. Once all of his garments had been thrown to the side, the guards violently shoved his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

In less than two years, Loki had gone from prince, to king, to criminal.

Sweat ran down the trickster’s body as the sweltering heat bore down on him. Heat had never been kind to Loki’s skin; but after learning of his true parentage, he understood why. Odin’s helm shone in the light, his stone eyes burned through Loki’s with a harshness that even the sun could not compete with. The king’s physical appearance had noticeably changed since he awoke from the Odin-sleep.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Odin began, sending his voice across the crowd and silencing all conversation. “You are being charged punishment by the whip for treason, attempted tyranny, and manslaughter.” The final charge sent a wave of discomfort through the Jotunn’s body.  

The worst punishment had already been said. He was no longer Prince Loki, Odinson-He was no longer even Odinson. He was _Laufeyson_. He was no longer a person, he was a monster.

* * *

 

Aurora had overslept, and no one had the decency to wake her. She hadn’t been able to shut an eye until the early morning. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining the horrors she would be witnessing the next morning and what had lead up to the entire thing.

Running a hand through her messy brunette hair, she tied it back and slipped on the closest dress to her reach before flying down the stairs of her parent’s estate and through the wide doors. Panic flooded her when she heard the thunderous commotion coming from behind the palace.

 _Loki’s punishment day._ The public had been encouraged to take audience at Loki’s first administration of punishment in the stadium that morning. When Loki had returned to Asgard, hatred filled her heart and she seethed with anger towards the man she once so admired. All of Asgard knew of what he had done, and no one was on his side now. She hated Loki for his crimes and refused to let the thought of him cross her mind if she could have something to do with it. After every horrible thing Loki had done, he was finally going to suffer.

If only she had remembered that as she tried to rest the previous night.

The young woman could feel her heart beating in her ears as she inhaled sharp breaths of air. She aimed her path towards the stadium and willed herself to ignore the stabs of pain as each foot met the rough ground and propelled her forward. She had forgotten how flimsy and delicate these shoes were.

 _Watch him._ The order rang fresh in her mind.

The roars and cheering from the stadium assaulted her ears and made her head throb. Her lungs burned so badly that she wondered if the air she so hungrily took in began to scorch the walls of her lungs and create fire. When she mercifully reached the stadium, the eruption of sound that greeted her hit her like a brick wall, subduing her urgency if only for a moment. The crowd had never been so garish before, never had they grown to such a volume that threatened hearing damage.

She expertly weaved through the flood of sweaty, drunken citizens as fast as her feet could take her. They had overflown and engulfed the space, crowding tightly all the way to the entrance of the All-Father’s seat overlooking the stage. Aurora managed to push past the crowd and slither her way towards the queen, un-detected, through the other nobles, including her parents. All of their gazes were focused on the figure that knelt before Odin.

When she caught sight of the presented man, she did not recognize him at first glance, but she understood that it was him. Sweat poured down the chained Asgardian’s body, making him seem more morbid than he already appeared. His hair hung like a curtain around his face, shielding him from the cruel glares that were aimed at him.  Every bone in his torso was distinguished in a disgustingly starved manner, jutting out under thin, almost transparently pale skin.

Her mind screamed at her, ordering her to hold back, don’t show any emotion, don’t even feel any, but her nasty habit of having a heart was stronger than the commands her mind gave. She tried to contain the flood of emotions that had been suppressed for almost two years, to keep her composure as she had been trained expertly to do. She felt sick, her mind and body wrestling with each other at the sight of the prisoner.   

Studying her, Thor almost didn’t trust that it was her. He couldn’t quite place how much time had passed since they last saw each other, but it was enough for her to be barely recognizable to him. She was a few feet away, not enough to reach out and comfort the girl, but far enough for the prince to call to her without capturing the attention of the audience nearest to them. She couldn’t help but smile wearily at the prince before bowing and slowly making her way next to him.

One of the guards had begun to unroll a long roll of parchment, naming the prisoner and his charges in more detail than the All-Father. Aurora closed her eyes, willing herself not to listen, though each sentence hit her harder as they were listed.

“Despite the circumstances, it brings me joy to find you again.” Thor whispered lowly in her ear. Aurora nodded, unsure of an appropriate response. “I must know where your absence from our feasts and celebrations took you.”

As the guard rolled up the scroll, Aurora turned to her old friend. “I wished to skill myself in the art of healing. I sought to Vanaheim.” She stated quickly.

The sound of a whip cracking brought Aurora’s body around, staring in shock as the black leather of the whip licked Loki’s pallid back. A thin ribbon of blood started down his back, and the crowd began to cheer louder than before.

 _Stop, stop, stop,_ she commanded herself. She locked her eyes shut, trying to recall the methods she had developed to calm and control herself. _He is a terrorist and a menace to all Nine Realms. He deserves this punishment._

Loki’s withering eyes flashed in their direction and landed on her. He looked directly into her icy blue eyes with the same gaze that Thor had worn just moments earlier, unable to place her for a split second, before recognizing who she was. _Aurora, my shadow._ His eyes then plead to her, though she could not console him now.

A lone tear escaped and streaked down her face, the only crack in her defense. She had taught herself to conceal her emotions, never allowing anyone to exploit a weakness. She had to look away; she could not stand by as blood wept from deep gashes on his body.

“Look away.” Thor instructed. Though just as he himself couldn’t tear his gaze from the sight of his brother being whipped, neither could Aurora. He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her body to turn towards his on an angle, trying to block out what she could see.

Thor wrapped his arm around her as he reached out for the trembling hand of his mother. Aurora did not witness Loki’s expression change at the sight of herself in Thor’s arms. Agony from the whip reverted to fiery anger, his brother spawning jealousy. The hate in him did not bleed out, it was powerful enough to overtake his senses and dulled the hot pain of the whip for a second.

As the punishment went on, the Midgardians sat uncomfortably alongside each other in silence. It was the hardest to watch for Bruce and Steve, though anyone who saw Tony’s face could tell that he had mixed feelings. Clint and Natasha barely fluttered an eye, knowing that Coulson must have suffered greater pain, and Tony tried to tell the same to himself, but it only comforted him less.

“I can’t just sit here and watch this anymore.” Steve shook his head. Forty-five lashes had been taken by Loki, the smell of blood growing stronger as it ran from his wounds and mixed with the sweat pouring down his back.

“Every time I close my eyes, I still see Coulson being put in the ground.” Tony bit out, his dark, wet eyes focused on Loki. He was making himself watch, punishing himself for the feeling of remorse that crept up his throat and made it tighten and ache. “He deserves every single crack.”

Weakly, Bruce lifted his head and spoke up. “I may not know anything about Asgardians,” he tried to speak loud enough so that the roaring of the crowd didn’t drown him out. “But he’s losing a dangerous amount of blood, and they don’t seem to be planning to quit anytime soon.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “That’s the whole point.” said Clint, his gravelly voice sounding sharper. Though Clint and Natasha had both taken Coulson’s death badly, Natasha was better at hiding it. Clint was altered, only a few jokes here and there, his laughter a little thinner, his eyes colder.

Another lash sent the raven-haired prince forward, arching his back. The muzzle muffled his groans and cries as what felt like fire burned the stretch of his back. He only had a minute left, just five more lashes, but that minute felt like an eternity. He had made it this far without losing consciousness or breaking, and he planned to make it to the healing chamber without being carried or dragged. 

His vision began to grow black and blur, and he felt his body begin to shift and transform. The feeling of his skin changing was stronger than the feeling of that flesh being torn by the leather. He realized that he had grown so weak that even his most basic magic, the magic that concealed his true parentage, had begun to fade. Using the last ounce of strength he had, he exchanged his consciousness for his pride as he willed himself to stay Æsir and not allow the blue curse of his natural form to show itself to the world.

The Trickster God longed to break free from his chains and show the crowd what a real monster does. A fiery hot rage boiled in his body, and a roar threatened to erupt from his chest. _“I WAS A KING!”_ The phrase scorched his lungs and tickled his teeth, but he could barely force air through his throat before it was whipped out of him. As he felt the strength from his body finally give, he realized he was never going to have that kind of power again.

The young woman smelled the thick aroma of metal and blood that electrified the air. The prisoner had finally broken, his head hung low between his limp, strung out arms. How was it that she, who had endured so much suffering and merciless insult from him so many years ago, could not bear to watch him be punished? How was it possible that the thousands who had gathered in this great hall had found so much hate and ill-wishes for a prince they had never even encountered? She wondered the same thing about the Midgardians, who seemed to be reacting the same way, despite their hatred for him was more recent and much more intense. After all, what he had done to them and their realm was what had led him to this occasion.

He had bled so much. Had he bled out all the violence and the viciousness in his veins, propelled by the hate and the hurt in his damaged heart? Had the whip finally torn through his façade? His armor of skin and bone, which protected him from the many opportunities he had been given to be loved and in turn be betrayed?

 _No,_ Aurora realized. He is still the same. _He will never be able to change._  


	2. Let it Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately after the events of the first chapter, we finally see Loki break. After what he had been through, the reality of his past and his dismal future weigh down on his mind, and Loki doesn't have enough strength to guard himself from being vulnerable to the pain and hurt of his body and his mind. Does he have any fight left?

With the lust for blood and justice satisfied, an unnerving quiet rested in the great hall as the mangled body was rushed into the closest healing chamber, just through an opening at the side of the hall.

Odin had not blinked one cruel eye during the punishment, merely appearing unaffected with the entire situation as it occurred. He did not watch as his son-now his prisoner-was carried away.

The crowd waited obediently for their king to speak, buzzing softly as he rose from his gilded throne to address his audience.

“See here,” He began, his thunderous voice vibrating throughout the hall. He gestured a hand at the rivers of crimson that flowed through the divots in the stone below him. “No matter who you are,” The All-Father paused before adding, “Who you _think_ you are-what actions you take, or where you are, I see all. You are nothing more than flesh and blood, and I shall reduce anyone who dares corrupt the peace of the Nine Realms or challenges my authority to just that.”

Odin’s plan of punishment was not powered by the need to physically break the trickster, but driven by the opportunity to allow the public to witness the event.  To Odin, Loki’s true punishment was the public humiliation. Loki was nothing without an audience, and thrived off attention and status. He craved that recognition, even fear, from that audience, but being whipped as an animal among them would break his pride.

In another way, Odin was allowed to re-establish his control after being subdued by the Odin-Sleep. No one was safe from the wrath of the All-Father, and after this display, he was sure that no one would soon attempt to challenge him.

He directed his heavy gaze towards his wife, Frigga, whose expression was that of the changed woman after watching the ground beneath her feet wrecked by a quake. If hurting his wife was what it took to ensure the law was upheld and respected, then he would not restrain himself.

The goddess had always been proud of Thor, but favored Loki in a quiet way. Her long hours with him were meaningful and a great source of her happiness. She cherished him in a way no one else could and ensured that he felt no less than treasured by her. Having to watch her mischievous boy being striped destroyed every happiness he had ever granted her.

As the crowd began to retreat and disperse, Aurora focused on gathering herself and keeping her composure. She politely stepped away from the comfort of the prince and straightened her dress. She had only then realized that she had left the house wearing her healer’s robe, a thick and rough berry colored gauze pinned with the symbol of the healers near her breast.

“As fortunate it is to have come across you again, I must wonder why you chose to attend to this event.” Thor murmured, stooping slightly to meet Aurora’s eyes.

Letting out a nervous breath, she answered, “I wanted to see the justice being served, just as the others have.”

Her words didn’t hold truth to their meaning. She wanted to test herself, her empathy. Had he changed enough that she could feel no compassion for him any longer? Had she grown strong enough to no longer depend on the happiness of others to sustain her own happiness?

“You have never been able to tell a strong lie.” Thor confided in her. “Your eyes betray your words.” That was her weak spot; it had always been. She had nearly mastered how to lie and manipulate her speech, but her eyes always gave her away.

Aurora was a family friend of the Odinsons.  In her younger years, her mother, Eir, had been Frigga’s most favored handmaiden, and brought Aurora to the palace with her once she was old enough to take on the playground of the palace. She had developed a close relationship with the princes. She had loved them like brothers, despite Thor’s teasing of her femininity and status when she was so young. She had a close bond with Loki; playing tricks on the palace servants and warriors practicing on the training ground, letting him practice his enchantments on her, almost anything he did was with her. Soon, she had earned the nickname “Shadow”.

“We both lost someone on that bridge,” Aurora stated with great difficulty. “I realized that he was lost long ago.” This was no lie. Her usual politeness wasn’t needed when referring to Loki, he was no longer an honorable royal.

He was lost. The body that returned was the same, but the man was not. Lost in an abyss, brainwashed by Thanos-he was never to be the same.

 He had fallen through the darkness in every sense of the word, and his body may have remained, but all other facets of him had been lost and only lived in her fading memories. He had fallen from the heavens, his grace along with him, and through the worm hole of hell, creating alliances with the Devil and his minions along the way.

“Aurora,” The Queen directed her attention towards the girl. Though her heart was heavy, her genuine happiness in seeing the girl softened her pain. “I heard word that you had returned from your stay in Vanaheim. I look forward to hearing about your time there in the garden, if you will join me?” She was being polite, keeping her face for those still lingering in the hall. She would not break her poise. This conversation would distract her long enough to maintain her composure.

Frigga had been well-trained in holding back her tears. She merely pushed them away with the rise of her cheeks and a sad smile. She still stood poised, her back straight and her chin lifted. Always the vision of grace and harmony.

Nodding, Aurora answered, “I eagerly await your call.”

The All-Father had begun to make his slow descent on the gold steps towards Frigga. In a serious tone, she told the pair, “Leave us, please.”

“Remember, mother,” Thor said softly, rubbing his thumb in circles over her hand. “He is still the All-Father.”

“He may be the king of the Nine Realms,” Frigga stated bitterly, “but he is no husband of mine on this day.” Her slate gray robes swished as she turned to face her king.

The Queen was the height of Asgardian fashion and style. Her clothes were always modest, even more attractive than the traditional robes the other women would wear to display their beauties.

Frigga wore no color that was not vibrant nor youthful, even her darkest robes were decorated with metals and accents of gems and exotic fabrics. What she wore then was never worn before, and was the darkest piece of clothing that she owned. It was dim and shapeless, without emotion or light. It fit the occasion.

Leading them away, Thor placed his hand once more on the small of her back and guided her alongside him towards the quiet group of Midgardians across the hall from them. “If you will allow me, I wish to introduce you to my Midgardian companions. They fought alongside me during Loki’s rampage, and protected their realm. They may appear small, but they are mighty.”

Reluctantly, Aurora replied, “Your highness, I would love to meet your honored guests, but I must suggest that you have your own reunion with them so as I shall not spoil your joy.”

“You spoil nothing, Lady Aurora.” Thor smiled politely.

As they neared the group, Eir, the goddess of healing, rushed towards them from the doorway to the healing chamber. Only slowing her pace a few yards away from them, the woman announced breathlessly, “Your highness, Prince Loki…” She appeared considerably shaken and tried to control her breathing. The Avengers, perking up at the sound of Loki’s name being mentioned, turned their attention to the three. “He calls…”

“Does he call for me?” Thor questioned. It was a quiet question, with a faint longing for an affirmation. He removed his hand from Aurora’s back and made himself ready to head back with her mother, but he was stopped by her response.

“No, your highness,” She answered regretfully. “Forgive me, but he calls for a shadow.” She explained with confusion. “He is mad, and we cannot seem to sedate him. I know not how to treat this.”

Eyeing Aurora, he wondered, “Does he call for _his_ shadow?”

The healer appeared very flustered at his question and was unsure how to give an accurate response. He had been screaming, weeping madly, child-like, for his shadow as he went in and out of consciousness. He made such emphasis on the word, it scared the healers. Surely he knew he had a shadow cast upon the ground, he had not been so changed by isolation that he had gone mad. If it weren’t for his current state, the healers would have called upon the royal guards to protect them from the rage Loki surely would have put upon them.

“When he calls, does he say ‘my shadow’?” Thor asked once more, lower.

Nodding fervently, wisps reddish-blond hair had tumbled from her braided bun as she nodded. Relieved, the high healer answered with relief. “Yes. That is exactly what he says.” She could heal any physical sickness, but ones of the mind were trickier.

Visibly disappointed, Thor gave a short nod. His eyes gave Aurora pity. “Your Aurora is who he asks for. Take her to him and allow her any resource she requires, and allow her privacy with him. Is that understood?”

Nodding, the healer held her hands in front of her obediently and affirmed, “Yes, your highness. Come now, Aurora.” She stretched out an arm towards her daughter, sending out a strong scent of blood and spice.

Leaning in, Thor’s hot breath tickled her ear. “Heal my brother, Lady Aurora, dear Shadow. You are his Shadow, but your true name means _the dawn_. The dawn always overpowers the stony black of night. Do not forget that.” He watched the women exit the room.

Peeking over her shoulder as the door separated them, Aurora bit her lip and watched Thor until the doors closed.

//

“That doesn’t look like Jane to me!” Tony spoke up.

Instantly bringing a smile to his face, Thor strode over to his friends and greeted them all with a warmly. He had not seen his friends since they had been brought to Asgard a few days earlier, when they were quickly escorted to their private chambers. Thor was still dealing with many problems that had occurred during his absence, and had been too busy to find time to join them.

“Seriously, who is that?” Tony pressed.

She was stunning, then again, so were all the Asgardian people to the Midgardians. In truth, she was a very plain looking girl in comparison to the fellow Asgardian women. Her skin was the color of most healers: very pale from her constant work indoors. Her hair should have been darker, as to contrast with her skin, but she had no such luck. Her hair was the color of tree bark, with hints of blonde in thin streaks. It looked misplaced, just as she herself appeared amidst the sunkissed Aesir. She had a thin frame, delicate as a sparrow. Her face was very sharp and angular, her hollow cheeks accentuating her high cheek bones, making her face thinner than it should appear. The bridge of her nose was a perfect slope, however the bottom was turned up slightly, and was a bit too large for her dainty features. Her lips were a different story. Tony imagined how soft they must be to kiss; her upper lip was thin, but her lower lip, innocently pink, was plump and pout.

“Lady Aurora is one of my closest friends,” Thor announced proudly. “I think of her a young sister,” Thor warned, giving Tony a sharp warning eye. “She was nearly raised along with us. She chose the healing path along with her mother rather than the path of a warrior.”

“Have I seen her before?” Steve asked Thor. “I don’t remember you talking about her before, but I swear she looks familiar.” Steve had been trying diligently to remember every name and face he had come across since his return to reality, but it was hard for him to keep track.

Did Asgardians come to visit and take pictures? Did Thor have a wallet somewhere that he would take out to show off the endless trail of pictures he had to his friends? No. That was just Steve.

“She’s Asgardian,” Bruce mentioned. “S.H.I.E.L.D. would have picked her up if they got a reading from Asgard.”

Truthfully, if a Midgardian had come across Aurora, they would have remembered her. She stood out in a crowd of them, and even in Asgard. She wasn’t quite to the same level of beauty that glowed from the Aesir, but she also wasn’t as incredibly stunning as an Aesir would be in a crowd of humans.

“With the amount of women who wink at you a day, I would mix up a lot of them too.” Clint commented. Still shaken from the events that had just taken place, it was not as easy for him to be comedic like Tony, who used it to try and forget his discomfort.

“As much as I enjoy this little pow-wow,” Natasha spoke up, tucking a strand of red hair behind her gold decorated ear, “I vote that we continue this somewhere else before the smell makes me lose my appetite for tonight.” She smiled thinly, hoping her vote would go through with the boys.

With most of the spectators out of the hall, the ghost of their presence remained in the foul odor of sweat and Norns knew what else.

Laughing, Thor replied, “I agree with Lady Romanoff.”

As the group quietly headed to the next location, Natasha titled her head back so she could see Thor. “You can call me Nat, you know.” She liked the big guy, she enjoyed him as a friend. She didn’t enjoy his level of formality.

“Lady Nat-”

“Are you the God of Thunder or the God of Titles?”

//

Two royal guards opened the heavy doors for the two women, sending the smell spices and herbs through the air in a wave. The room was quiet, with four healer women gathered around Loki’s bedside. He had either been sedated or been muzzled again, for he made no sound. Aurora could not see him, only the frantic movements of the healers who were busily working on him now that he had ceased screaming.

“What do you require?” The elder healer asked. Her daughter was wise and well taught in the art of healing-Eir did teach her everything she knew about the practice. She trusted her daughter now, maybe more than herself in this given situation.

The girl stared blankly ahead of her, anxious to catch the smallest glimpse of the price on the table, yet still so terrified to be in such a close proximity of him. Orderly, she listed what she knew she could not find in the healing chamber. “I need tobacco, blown glass, and large cubes of ice,” She heard the women begin to cease their work and clean up their area. Turning her back to the bed, she added, “As much cold water and ice as you can find.”

Despite the strange list of items she had been asked to procure, the elder healer had been able to gather everything that had asked for before the younger healers had even finished up. Though the woman was confident that tobacco should not be used in front of the patient, she did not dare go against Prince Thor’s orders. Aurora was surprised that her mother hadn’t brought in ice sooner, as she had helped heal Loki with it before, but many centuries had passed since.

The room was made of stone, very cold, but not cold enough to keep the ice. It was put in a corner away from all light and heat, near a bucket of ice water. The room was long and narrow, lined with cabinets and drawers full of healing treatments. From the low ceilings hung herbs and spices, as well as other flowers and plants that could be used for healing purposes. Red stones, the healing stones of her mother, were laid out on all unused surfaces. There was barely any room for her to work on one person, much less the four women who had previously occupied the room.

“The guards are just outside those doors.” Eir mentioned with concern. “Fortune favored you then, may fortune favor you now.” She wished grimly before closing the door behind her.

Her back still to the bed, Aurora stared blankly at the doors, listening to the silence that had taken over the room. It was the heavy kind of silence that wasn’t noiseless, it was a garish silence, as if the silence felt trapped and had begun to assault the senses to be granted the release of sound.

She buried her hand in her robe pocket, retrieving the glass and tobacco she had been given. She began to tear and crush the dried tobacco leaves between her fingers, sprinkling it into the bowl of the glass pipe. Lighting a match from the candle near the doorway, she fumbled to light the crushed leaves until she felt the harsh sigh of smoke flow through her mouth and swirl through her throat. Pushing it through the round “o” shape of her lips, she hungrily took in another drag and let it float through her. It lifted weight from her mind, dragged her eye lids down to hide her from reality for a moment. When she had finished, she placed the glass on the marble counter, and finally turned to face the figure on the bed.

A clean cloth had been draped upon his back to shield his exposed wounds. His hands were chained to the legs of the bed nearest to his head, with little slack. As she expected, she could see the metal gleam of his metal muzzle underneath the mess of black tendrils that hid his face. The skin she could still see was a sickly shade of white, the unhealthiest and most disgusting shade she had ever witnessed. It clung tightly to his bones, nearly as visible the skeletons she had learned her skills on. It was pallid and grey, comparable to a corpse ready to be placed in their burning boat.

Tearing her attention away from the bed, she headed over to the corner that surrounded the large brick of ice and began to chip away at it with a pick. She would have to wait to tend to the wounds on his back; the women before her had taken care of those already. They, however, did not know what he truly needed to heal.

Slowly, the young healer stacked the chips of ice in a small bowl and carried them over to his bedside. Delicately, she began the difficult task of placing the chips on his back, watching them melt almost instantly on his skin. She heard him wake when the warmth of her hand unintentionally met the torn flesh of his back. He winced and made a muffled sound of pain.

After months of isolation, Loki had yearned for the smallest contact with another person, but now he damned that every aching thought. His skin seemed resistant to that touch, that simple warmth of another living thing, especially where it was torn open.

He had been unconscious long enough to regain a small amount of energy, not enough to be completely awake and aware of the exact location he was in. His conscious had mixed with his unconscious; the present was a mix of confusion and nightmarish illusions created by his wrecked mind.

Aurora took a step back, watching the slow turn of Loki’s gaze to understand who had touched him. The muzzle weighed him down, causing frustration in his attempt to scan his surroundings.

“Hush…” Aurora cooed. In an instant, she had forgotten to guard every move and thought she made, only focusing on reducing the pain of her charge. He restrained, too weak to hurt her.   

Brushing away the damp stands of hair that covered the nape of his neck, the younger woman skillfully worked the complex locking mechanism that secured the metallic silencer to his jaw. The lock was incredible, taking even a person of her dexterity a few tries to successfully disengage the machinery.

During the long period of time the woman had been fixing on the lock, the god had unwillingly slipped out of consciousness. The soft click of the lock being disabled woke him again. He lay deadly still, wondering if the nimble fingers tucking around the metal were a fantasy his mind had made to distract himself from the hot pain that still hurried through his nerves.

He tried to sense the skin and shape of the fingers-human, Aesir, monster-he had felt that harsh touch of all of them. Were they sharp-clawed? Were they meant to dig into the flesh of his cheek and tear out his clever tongue? Were they strong hands? Were they pausing for a moment before they crushed the life out of him from his throat?

He began to hyperventilate, unable to decipher the complicated thoughts of his sick mind. He was terrified, he knew what that meant now. He feared for his life, to die at the hands of an unknown figure, helpless, gagged, chained up.

“Here,” The honeyed voice of a woman purred. She shushed him again, trying to lessen his strained breathing. She tenderly cupped her small hand around the sharp bone of his jaw, lifting it just enough so she could pull the metal from his face. Placing it upon a countertop, the healer washed over the irritated skin with her soothing hand. “Your skin needs to breathe.”

The familiar voice brought him back to reality, cleansing his mind of his maddened fears and hallucinations. He could finally remember the general time and place, but no details.

His mouth was raw from his earlier outburst, his cheeks were numb. He couldn’t remember how long he had been confined by the harsh gag, it must have been long enough for his body to grow un-accustomed to being without it. The healers had only taken it off of him long enough to understand what he was screaming about before clamping it back onto him.

His senses were hazy. He dragged his head to its side to gain clear sight of the healer. It took no more than a moment to recognize her face even after the amount of time that had passed, he should have forgotten to remember even the most obvious details of her features.

But he remembered.

He should have forgotten that under the heavy lids of her honey-brown eyes, there was a freckled dot of green from when he had improperly enchanted her eyes to change colors with her moods when they were only twelve and thirteen, when he was too young to know how to properly reverse his spells. He should not have been able to remember that above the arch of her left eyebrow was a small and silvery scar she had gained from the edge of a wooden sword during a battle between herself and Thor when she was only five, and he nearly ten.

Maturity had aged her subtly, giving her an official and experienced face, much different from the mischievous and bright face she had before that was always accompanied by a smile; or in the case of putting an arrogant Loki in his place, a crooked one.

“ _Shadow_?” He choked, testing the strength of his voice.

//

During the summer seasons, Loki would grow deathly ill from the heat as a result of his hidden parentage. His skin had always suffered from the sun, but the intense heat of the Asgardian summers were toxic to him.

Eir, Frigga’s most trusted handmaiden, had recently been honored as the high healer, goddess of healing to be exact. During midday, nearly every day for almost an entire week during the height of the heat wave in the season, Eir had sent Aurora to play with Thor. However, this was during Thor’s tricky age of eleven, where girls had cooties and in his mind he was already King of the Nine Realms. He didn’t make for the most wonderful playmate.

During one of these horrible playdates, Thor had told Aurora to hide in the palace, promising to find her. Two hours had passed, and Aurora, still crouched between an old statue and a chair, had realized angrily that Thor had played a trick on her and abandoned her. She was usually very snooty and passive when she became angry, but with how badly Thor had been treating her and the lack of contact from Loki, and even her mother, the little girl felt her face grow hot with anger. She bolted up, balled up her little hands into fists, and began to stomp around and search for Thor. She was going to throw a very public temper tantrum when she found Thor. She was going to tell everyone what Thor had done-and maybe a little lie or two about how he pushed her over and pulled her hair.

She found him pouting with his meager chest puffed out behind his crossed arms, demanding to be let into Loki’s chambers.

_“MOTHER!”_ He bellowed, exchanging what he thought were threatening stares with the two guards standing outside the door.

“You!” Aurora’s high pitched voice screeched. Stomping over to him, she began to berate him. _“You’re the worst playmate ever! You abandoned me! I don’t want to be your friend! I hope you_ never _become king!”_ Thor gasped dramatically, eyeing the guards this time with a look telling them to punish her. “ _You’re the meanest boy I’ve ever,_ ever _met-ever_!” At that age, she was too young to have fear of severe punishment for insulting the prince.

_“How dare you-”_ Thor narrowed his eyes. He stopped mid insult to turn his attention back to the door. _“MOTHER!”_

Finally, Frigga opened the door to her son and chided him. “ _Enough of that! I told you to play nicely with Aurora and stay away from here today.”_

_“But you say that_ every day! _”_ Thor whined impatiently.

Through the door, Loki’s cries could be heard. “ _Mo_ - _mo_ -mother!” He blubbered. Aurora peeked around Thor to try and see inside, but was blocked by Frigga’s form. “ _My-my_ Shadow! _I want my sh-sha-d-dow!”_

Aurora’s little eyes bugged out, and she clawed her way past Thor, who objected quite loudly, and called into the room. _“Mommy!”_ She called. _“Loki wants me! Let me in, momma! I know you’re_ in _there!”_ She sing-songed. She was determined to see her friend. Why was he crying so much? Loki didn’t cry. If he did, he always hid it from whoever could see or hear him.

Frigga looked down at the little child. _“Aurora, he-”_

Suddenly, the crying stopped, and she heard Loki moan, _“I want her in here!”_

Frigga glanced back at her son with surprise and took Aurora’s tiny hand in hers, leading her into the room, closing the door to block out Thor’s loud and boisterous protests.

As soon as the door closed, Aurora broke free from the queen’s grasp and sprinted as fast as her little feet could go to Loki’s bedside and flung her arms around her friend. She jumped back, alarmed at the freezing ice that met her body. It was all over him.

_“I’m too hot.”_ Loki explained quietly, wiping a tear from his cheek.

_“Mommy,”_ Aurora turned to Eir, who was preparing an ice-bath for the prince. _“Why is he sick?”_ She asked innocently. _“I want him to get better.”_

Smiling, Eir replied, _“We’re trying to heal him as fast as we can so you can play.”_

_“But…why is he so sick?”_ She repeated.

Eir eyed the little prince with pity, and sighed. _“He is very sensitive to heat and light. When summer comes, it makes him very sick.”_

_“Oh.”_ Aurora replied simply. She turned back to her friend and bit her fat little lip, before plopping herself on the ground beside his bed.

_“What are you_ doing _down there?”_ Loki questioned. He had been asking for her so he could see her, not so she could take a nap!

_“I can’t hug you up there, so I’ll hug you down here.”_ She replied, satisfied. _“Gimme your arm.”_ She ordered.

Loki wasn’t one to answer to anyone other than himself or his mother, but Aurora was an exception to that. He complied and let his arm dangle on the side of the bed. Aurora hugged the boy’s tiny arm to her face, wrapping both arms around it.

_“You get better,”_ She ordered, closing her eyes. _“I’ll wait down here, okay?”_

_“Promise?”_ Loki asked.

_“Promise.”_ His Shadow echoed.

And she did. Every day for the rest of that week, every day during that week for the next year, every day of that week for the next decade.

In the healing chambers now, he found his Shadow still waiting.

//

Hearing his voice startled her. “I am Lady Aurora now,” she declared maturely. She had almost forgotten that early memory. She had forgotten a lot of things from her time with Loki. “I have not been Shadow for a very long time.”

“She came…” he uttered his thought without meaning to. He still struggled with processing his current reality. Maybe his mind had imagined this situation, taking him back to a younger age when things were easier. But how could that be true, he thought, if she was so much older now? As a droplet of water rolled down his side from the melted ice, he settled on the fact that it was reality.

“Yes, I did,” Aurora affirmed without emotion, placing another chip of ice on his lower back. “Only as your healer.”

A different pain stretched through his chest. He did not allow himself to feel this kind of pain, rejection or any feelings similar. He was too weak to guard himself from it. Mentally and physically, he was vulnerable to anything.

“You came when I called you…” he tried to change her purpose for being at his side. He didn’t want to be truly alone.

“I came as a favor to my mother and to your brother.” She replied, placing her ice bowl on the counter until it was time to be re-filled.

Brother. Thor. The persistent anger that he felt towards his family tried to invade, but he was too weak to fight his association with his adoptive family.

“You didn’t have to come.” Loki reasoned. He was trying to say anything that would get the response he needed from her. Unfortunately, it did not come off the way he intended.

“Well, then I can leave.” She decided, beginning to make her way to the door.

“Wait-” Suddenly, without a thought, Loki’s arm shot out as far as it could with his restraints and grabbed the tips of her fingers. It wasn’t until the fresh pain set in that he realized he shouldn’t be moving. It felt like he had torn his entire back when he exerted the muscles to stretch out his arm, aggravating each wound. An agonizing cry erupted from his bottom of his stomach, animalistic and feral.

“Norns!” Aurora hissed, quickly rushing to strip off the bandages that were slick with fresh blood. She made a fresh mix of yarrow and comfrey into a powder before sprinkling it across the gashes. Loki hissed and moaned as the herbs mingled with his blood and sweat. She placed fresh bandages over the mixture as gently as she could while trying to apply the pressure needed to control his bleeding.

As she washed her hands free of blood, she heard Loki begin to cry loudly. “Why didn’t you let me bleed to death?” He whimpered. Her heart sank when she heard the hopelessness in his voice. He wasn’t saying this for show or sympathy. He truly felt that he had nothing left; and in truth, he didn’t. He was condemned to an eternity in the dungeons below the place where he spent his entire life. Whatever friends he still had before his rampage were lost now, his mother was forbidden from seeing him, and he would never see sunlight again.

_He’ll never have the chance to cause anyone pain,_ her mind reasoned. _He’ll never have the chance to feel anything but pain,_ her heart replied. Her soul, the only middle ground in this conflict, gave a wise point: _I’m a healer. I can solve whatever sickness or injury impairs my charge, but not the person. So I will heal him._

The liesmith did not give in to such thoughts. He had too much ambition, too much pride to think himself any less worthy of the best life achievable. He had always felt worthy, or more than worthy, of his life. He was a gift to the galaxy. Yet, all of that was gone in the healing chamber.

“Never say those things.” Aurora pleaded, kneeling next to his table. She knew how to heal physical wounds, but psychological and emotional maladies were trickier. She had never been faced with any, especially not of such dark nature.

“Please,” he begged, turning his wet eyes to meet hers. “Stay. Forget what’s happened. Play pretend, like we did when we were children.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, Aurora tried to look away. “We are no longer children, and we cannot play pretend anymore. We are here, in the real world.”

“Be here with me,” he murmured weakly, exhaustion weighing his eyes down. “If only for a few moments.”

She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh. She turned herself around and un-crouched her legs, folding them to sit beneath the edge of the table. “Give me your hand,” She instructed. He slowly brought his arm back to let her take it in her hands. “You get better.” She ordered. “I-I’ll wait down here, _okay?_ ”

The same memory Aurora had remembered came back to Loki, and for the first time in what seemed like years, he smiled out of happiness. “Promise?” He asked, echoing the words he spoke in his childhood bedroom.

Hesitantly, she replied. “ _Promise._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. School has been hectic, and I really want to write this story properly. It's been scribbled on dozens of notebooks for literally years, and has changed so many times. I don't want this story to just be some dreamy thing that I write to satisfy some weird desire, because that's not what it is. I went to the library and did a lot of research on the Norse mythology, which I plan to use in moderation to compliment the plot and keep a realistic feel. I am spending a lot of time planning out character development, as well as a well-written plot that doesn't deviate from my desired storytelling objectives or a plot that makes the characters seem unrealistic. Believe me when I say I put a lot of thought and effort into these chapters.
> 
> On another note, I suppose Loki may come off ooc in this chapter, but this is because of where we are in the story. The weight of his actions mixed with his punishment and the realization of his future is really hitting him, and I don't think anyone, not even a fictional god like Loki, would be able to go through any kind of stress like what he has already been through and not have even a moment of vulnerability and insanity. I promise that he is not like this through the story. In this chapter, I needed to show what he wouldn't express under normal circumstances. For him to develop, he needs to hit rock bottom, even if he decides to try and go back to his usual guarded and arrogant personality.
> 
> Yes, Aurora is an OC, but she has a meaning to the story, and it's not just as a lame character to say a few words. She is not at all in mythology, but I did heavy research on the goddess who acts as her mother, and I am trying to make her as realistic and enjoyable as possible. I'm not into OC stories really, so I want to make her an enjoyable character.
> 
> If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to leave a comment or send me a message.


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